Embrace The Night
by mandy1485
Summary: AU: They were 2 people longing for fulfillment, braving the danger of a love like no other. Alone, they faced desolation and despair...Together, they would share undying passion, defy eternity, and embrace the night... Hope you Enjoy. R & R
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Salamanca, 1995_

The single headstone stood on a small rise, the luminous white marble glowing like a beacon in the gathering darkness. A thick gray mist rose up from the ground to meet the lowering clouds, but he needed no light to find his way to the grave site, or to read in the inscription on the stone.

Jude Elizabeth Harrison

1865 - 1940

Beloved Wife

Gone From This Earth

Yet She Abides Forever

In My Heart

Jude. They had shared more than fifty years together. Had there been fifty more, a hundred more, it would not have been enough. She had filled the emptiness in his life, brightened the darkness that dwelled in the abyss of his accursed soul.

He groaned softly, experiencing the pain of her death anew.

"Why, Jude?"

The question torn from the depths of his heart, echoed in the stillness.

_Why, why, why..._

He cursed himself for letting her go, and yet, loving her as he did, he'd had no other choice.

"Jude, beloved, come back to me."

The pain of their separation pierced him anew, as sharp as it had been the night she died in his arms.

His hand caressed the cold marble headstone, then came to rest on the earth that covered her remains. But the woman he had loved more than his own life was gone. Her soul, her essence, had departed the earth, bound for that heaven that was forever denied him.

Jude.

The other half of his heart.

His solace in a dark and lonely world.

_Jude, Jude, why did you leave me? Was my existence so repugnant you could not share it?_

He groaned, deep in his soul, knowing he was being unfair. From the beginning, she had accepted him for what he was. Loved him with every fiber of her being, with every beat of her heart. Whatever anguish he was suffering now was not because of Jude's decision, but because of who, and what he was.

Pressing his cheek to the damp grass, he closed his eyes, remembering how it all began...

A/N: Anyone want more??? You know what to do...R & R Thanks )


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_England, 1881_

He had been observing her for the last 13 years, watching, from the shadows, as the cumberstone braces on her slender legs were changed again and again. A weakness in the lower limbs, the doctors said. That was what kept her from walking.

He had seen the hope fade from her wide blue eyes as she accepted the fact that she would never run and play like the other girls who lived in the orphanage. Later, as she grew older, he had felt her despair as she realized that she would probably never marry or have children, that she would likely live out her days alone, with no one to love her, no family to mourn her, or remember her when she was gone.

He was the only one who sensed the true depths of her despair, her heartache, the only one who knew how she yearned to run in the golden light of the sun, to walk in the silver shadow of the moon.

He was the only one who heard the sound of her muffled tears in the dark of the night. For others, she put on a brave face, but alone in her room, she wept bitter tears...tears that ate at his soul like acid.

He had never intended for her to know of his existence. Never. He had wanted only to watch over her, an unseen phantom who shared her loneliness and, in doing so, eased his own.

So it was that he was lingering in the shadows outside her room late one summer night.

He knew she had spent the afternoon sitting in the park across from the orphanage, watching the younger children at play, watching the couples old and young stroll hand in hand along the tree-lined path.

Watching life pass her by.

She had skipped dinner and gone to bed early that evening, only to lie awake long after everyone else in the house was asleep. A single candle burned at her bedside, its flickering light casting pale shadows over her face.

Now, hovering in the shadows on the veranda, he felt his heart ache. She was talking to herself, her voice low and soft, but not so low he could not hear it.

"You can do it, Jude," she said, her voice tinged with determination. "I know you can, the doctors could be wrong!"

For the next five minutes, he watched her struggle to inch her way to the edge of the bed, watched as she pulled herself to a sitting position, scooting over to the edge of the bed until her legs dangled over the side, her feet touching the floor.

"You can do it." Taking a deep breath, she clutched the newel post at the head of the bed and pulled herself to her feet.

For a brief moment, she stood there, her brow sheened with perspiration, and then bravely, she let go of the post.

He bit off a curse as her legs gave a way and she dropped to the floor.

"It's hopeless," she murmured, her voice thick with despair. "No one's ever going to adopt me." She dashed the tears from her eyes. "Or love me. I'll spend the rest of my life in this place and never do any of the things other girls do. I'll never marry. Or have children..."

She sat there for several minutes, staring at the floor, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

It grieved him to see her steeped in such anguish.

She had always tried so hard to be cheerful, to be brave. She was a beautiful young girl, on the verge of womanhood. Who could blame her for feeling that life was passing her by?

He longed to go to her, to take her in his arms and give her the comfort, the reassurance, she so desperately needed, but he dared not reveal himself.

He was about to turn away when she reached under her pillow and withdrew a small brown bottle. She stared at the bottle for a long moment, a pensive expression on her face.

And he knew, in that moment, that she intended to end her life.

Without thinking of the consequences, he barged into the room.

Jude glanced up, startled, as a tall man swept into her bedchamber. He was dressed all in black, from his soft leather boots to the heavy woolen cloak that swirled around him like a dark cloud.

"Jude, don't!"

His voice was like ebony satin, soft, mesmerizing.

Jude clutched the bottle to her breast. "Don't what?"

"Don't take your life, Jude."

She blinked up at him, too surprised by his unexpected intrusion in her room, and by his knowledge of what she intended to do, to be alarmed. "Who are you?"

"No one of importance."

"What were you doing out on the veranda?"

"Watching you."

_That _frightened her. He saw it in the way she shrank back against the pillows, in the sudden widening of her eyes as she realized that she was alone, and helpless.

"Watching me? Why?"

"I have watched over you since you were a child."

She smiled then, a faint expression of amusement and disbelief. "Are you my guardian angel?"

"Exactly."

"And is your name Thomas?"

_(A/N: I know Thomas really isn't an angel's name but work with me here, lol)_

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. "If you wish."

She glanced at the bottle in her hand. "And have you come to take me to heaven?"

"No," he said sadly. "That I could never do."

"To hell then?"

He shook his head. His sweet Jude would never see hell, he mused, unless she looked into the depths of his eyes.

On silent feet, he closed the distance between them, and took the bottle from her hand.

Too late, she tried to snatch it back.

"No, Jude," he said, shoving the bottle into the pocket of his trousers. "I'll not let you take your own life. Now now. Not ever."

"I have no life," she retorted bitterly. "I've never been anything but a burden, first to my family, and now to the sisters who must take care of me."

"That's not true."

"It is! Don't you think i know it is? Why else would my mother have abandoned me?"

"Jude." He whispered her name, stricken by the depths of the pain in her eyes.

"I'm nothing but a burden," she said again. "The sisters say they love me, but I know they'd be relieved if I was gone."

"Ah, my poor sweet Jude," he murmured, and before he quite realized what he was doing, he was sitting in the edge of the bed, drawing her into his arms.

How lovely she was, with her silky blond hair and eyes as blue as a robin's egg. Sweet Jude. So lovely. So fragile.

He held her close, surprised that she didn't pull away. Instead, she burrowed into his arms, her face pressed to his chest. He felt her shoulders shake, felt her tears soaking through his shirt, the moisture warm and damp upon the coolness of his skin.

He held her, rocking her gently, until she fell asleep. And even then he was reluctant to let her go.

He cradled her to his chest until the first faint hint of dawn brightened the sky. Only then did he lower her to the bed. He gazed down at her for a long moment, and then he drew the quilt over her.

Knowing he had no right, he bent down and kissed her cheek, and then he was gone, as silent as the sunrise.

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**A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm so excited for the rest. Please R & R. BTW, i forgot to put this in the beginning...I don't own anything, lol. If i did, i wouldn't be here!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is kinda boring. The the information is important. It gives a background for the characters. Anywasy, hope you like it!****

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**Chapter 2**

He reached his lair in Crosswick Abbey minutes before the sun climbed above the horizon. Bolting the door behind him. he rested the back of his head against the solid wood, his skin still tingling from the promise of the sun's warmth.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what it had been like to walk in the light of day, to welcome the touch of the sun on his face, to bask in its warmth.

With a muttered oath, he pushed away from the door and crossed the floor. Sinking down in the huge, thronelike chair that was the room's only piece of furniture, he stared into the blackness of the hearth.

She was in pain, and she wanted to end her life. There were all kinds of pain, he thought. Jude's wasn't physical...it went much deeper than that, piercing her heart, her soul. Sweet and sensitive, she felt was a burden to the handful of nuns who ran the Sisters of Eternal Mercy Orphanage.

His heart ached for her. She had been born to wealthy parents, but from the day of her birth, the Harrison family had been plagued by a constant stream of bad luck. Two ships belonging to the fleet owned by her father were lost at sea and a fire destroyed a part of their home. In the following year, Victoria Harrison gave birth to a stillborn son. Shortly after Jude's 3rd birthday, her father was killed in a carriage accident. Only then did his wife learn that he had gambled away not only their fortune, but the shipping line as well. His creditors, previously kept at bay by his good name and his fervent promises to make good on his many outstanding notes, had foreclosed on the family estate. Jude's mother, stricken by her husband's death and the loss of her home, had abandoned her daughter, never to be seen again.

It was no wonder Jude was bitter, he mused. Perhaps he should have told her that she was the single ray of sunshine in his own miserable existence, that her life had purpose, even if it was only to bring light into one man's world of darkness.

But he couldn't tell her that. Much as he longed to give her comfort, he couldn't give her hope when he had none to give.

He felt the sun rising, felt the faint lethargy that came with the dawn, a lassitude that grew ever stronger until it rendered him powerless. When he'd first been made, centuries ago, he had been unable to withstand the overpowering weakness that had come with daylight. Drained of his strength, he had been forced to seek total darkness during the daylight hours, to sleep the restorative sleep of the undead. But as he got older, and stronger, he found that he was able to take his rest later in the day, to rise earlier at night, though the touch of the sunlight still meant death. He feared the touch of the sun, the agony of a fiery death, as he feared nothing else.

Those early days had been filled with confusion and frustration. The lust for blood had filled him with self-loathing, yet he had been unable to resist the urge to drink, and drink, and drink, until he was sated with it. His hearing, sharpened to a new awareness, was bombarded with noise. The sound of thunder was deafening. Only with the long practice did he learn to shut out the thoughts of others, to regain a sense of inner quiet. His eyesight was nothing short of miraculous...his strength was that of 20 men. Like a child with a new toy, he had tested the limits of his powers, his endurance. And in the testing, he had heedlessly brought pain and death to those helpless mortals who had unwittingly crossed his path.

Filled with loneliness, cut off from mankind, he had left Italy and wandered through the world, searching for a safe haven, a new place to call home. Gradually, he had learned to control the blood lust. He had learned it wasn't necessary to drain his prey, or to take so much that life was lost. He had learned to hypnotize a victim to his side, take only enough to appease his need, and leave, with the victim never realizing what had been done. And still there were times when the urge to feed was overwhelming, when even his considerable willpower wasn't enough to keep him from taking a life.

It was not an easy burden to bear, knowing he must exist on the life's blood of others or perish, knowing he was hated and feared by all mankind. Some accepted the Dark Gift and reveled in it, as he had. Others went mad.

He slumped down in the chair, shrouded in darkness and in his own bleak thoughts. For centuries he had prowled the earth, inflicting havoc on humanity, exculting in his immortality, content to wander aimlessly, caring for no one, letting no one care for him, until the loneliness became more than he could bear. He had accepted what he was by then, had learned to control the lust for blood, and so he sought a mate, searched the world from end to end looking for that one woman who would see past the monster he had become to the man he had once been.

He'd had no trouble finding woman. He needed no mirror to remind him that he was a virile male in his prime. His hair was short and straight, as black as his soul...his eyes were as gray as the morning mist that rose from the river. His face was pleasant enough, his lips full and sensuous...his nose, while slightly crooked, was not offensive.

He swore a vile oath at the memory. He had loved Sadie with all the passion of youth, and she had died because of him. There had been times since then when he had grown heartily sick of the monster he'd become, times when death had beckoned sweetly.

13 years ago had been suck a time. He had been on the brink of destroying himself, of walking out into the sunlight to feel the sun on his face before it destroyed him. That had been the night he had seen Jude for the first time, a small, golden-haired girl huddled in the corner of an empty room.

She had been crying softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing the quiet of the night, and the sound, so filled with sorrow, had drawn him out of his own misery. The sound of her tears had led him to an elegant manor house.

She had stopped crying the instant he picked her up, staring at him through bright blue eyes filled with tears. And then she had smiled at him, a sweet, innocent smile filled with trust, and he had vowed to protect her for as long as she lived.

He had searched the rooms, looking for the child's mother, but there was no sign that anyone lived in the house. The furniture was covered...the closets were empty.

He had cursed softly, wondering who would abandon such a precious child.

He had learned later that Jude was the child of Victoria Harrison, and the woman had fled her home in the middle of the night. The townspeople had assumed she had taken the child with her.

Late that night, he had taken Jude to the orphanage run by the Sisters of Eternal Mercy.

When he handed her to the nuns, she had stared up at him, her little face looking sad, as if she realized she would never see him again.

He had watched over her ever since...

A long, slow sigh escaped his lips as he stared into the blackened hearth. Jude. What would he do if she tried to take her life while he slept? What would his life be like without her?

_Have you come to take me to heaven? _The sound of her voice echoed in his mind, as did his own cryptic reply: _That I could never do. _Truer words had never been spoken, he thought, for he was far beyond the reach of heaven.

_And is your name Thomas? _she had asked him, to which he had replied, _if you wish._

A faint smile curved the corner of his mouth. He had lived many lives and worn many names, but none pleased him more than the one she had given him.

For this lifetime, her lifetime, he would by Thomas.

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**A/N: Anyone want more Jommy??? You better R&R, lol!!! The sooner you review, the sooner i'll post the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's a little more Jommy for ya!!! I wanted to give a special thanks to all of you that have been reviewing...You Rock!!! Hope you enjoy Please R & R...****

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**Chapter 3**

With a sigh, Jude closed the book she had been reading. Another happily-ever-after ending, she thought despondently. If only real life, her life, would end like that. If only there were a Prince Charming waiting in her future, eager to carry her off on his prancing white charger...a tall handsome man who could look past the wheelchair and see the woman.

She stared at the closed veranda doors, remembering the mysterious man who had come to her in the dark of the night. A faint smile curved her lips. All day, she had thought of him, her imagination creating one fantasy after another.

He was a prince in disguise looking for his own Cinderella.

He was an eccentric nobleman searching for the perfect mate, and she was it.

He was a depraved monster from a childhood dream, and only she could save him...

A small sound of disgust erupted from her throat. No man, whether prince or monster, would ever want a woman bound to a chair. What prince would want a princess who couldn't walk? What monster could be reformed by half a woman?

Tears stung her eyes and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. Lately, all she wanted to do was cry, to wallow in self-pity. She was tired of it, ashamed of it, but she couldn't seem to stop. She was almost 17 years old. She wanted to run through a sunlit meadow, walk along tree-lined paths, swim in the pretty blue lake

behind the orphanage. And more than anything, she wanted to dance.

She glanced at the beautiful little ballerina music box beside her bed. Her one dream, ever since she'd been a little girl, had been to be a dancer. It was a hope she had held close to her heart through all the years of her childhood, a hope that had grown fainter each time the doctor had changed the braces on her legs, until, in the end, they had removed the braces altogether. Any hope she had ever had for a normal future had died that day, killed by the cold, implacable realization that she would never walk. She would spend her whole life in a wheelchair.

She wouldn't cry! She wouldn't!

Jude choked back a sob as the door swung open and Sister Georgia came in to see her night time needs before tucking her into bed.

"Sleep well, child," Sister Georgia said.

After making sure the bell pull was in place in case Jude needed something during the night, the nun left the room.

Jude lay in her bed, wide awake, as silence fell over the household. She was drawing the covers up to her chin when she saw a shadow move across the gauzy curtains that covered the veranda doors.

"Thomas?" She peered into the darkness. "Tommy?" She called his name again, the cry echoing in the lonely corridors of her heart. "If you're there, please come in."

She held her breath, waiting, hoping, and then the doors swung open, revealing a dark figure silhouetted by the moonlight.

"Tommy."

"Jude." He inclined his head in her direction as he stepped into the room and closed the doors behind him. "You're up late."

"I'm not tired."

"You've been crying," he remarked, his voice ringed with accusation and regret.

She shook her heard. "No, I haven't."

She pulled herself into a sitting position, then lit the lamp beside the bed. "Have you been watching me again?"

Tommy nodded. He had stood in the shadows, watching her read, watching the play of emotions on her face. It had been so easy to divine her thoughts as the story unfolded, to know that she had imagined herself as the heroine, that she yearned for the perfect fairy-tale kind of love and fulfillment that existed only in books.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" she mused. "Before last night, i mean?" She studied his face, the deep gray eyes, the sharp planes and angles, the strong jaw. "I remember you."

Tommy shook his head. She couldn't remember him. It was impossible.

"You're the one who brought me to the orphanage."

"How can you possibly remember that? You were only a child."

"So it was you!" She smiled triumphantly. "How could I ever forget the face of my guardian angel?"

A muscle worked in Tommy's jaw as guilt and self-loathing rose up within him. He was an angel, all right, he thought bitterly, the angel of death.

"And you've been watching over me since? Why?"

Why, indeed? he thought. He couldn't tell her she represented everything he had lost, that her innocence drew him like a light in the darkness, that he had watched her grow from a beautiful child into a beautiful woman, and that his lust had grown with her. No, never that! He shoved his hands into his pockets and curled them into tight fists. She must never know that.

"Why?" He forced a smile. "Curiosity, of course."

"I see," Jude said dryly. "Since you saved my life, you wanted to see how I turned out?"

"You could put it that way."

"And how have I turned out?"

"Beautifully," he murmured.

"Beautiful but useless."

"Jude!" He was at her side in a heartbeat. "Never say that. Never feel that."

"Why not? It's true. I'm no good to anyone."

"You are. You are good for me."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "How?"

How, he thought. How could he explain what she meant to him?

"You can't think of anything, can you?"

"I have no family," Tommy said quietly. "No close friends. After I found you, you became my family. Sometimes I pretended that you were my daughter..."

"And you left me gifts, didn't you?" Jude glanced at the ballerina on her bedside table. "You brought me presents on my birthday, and at Christmas."

Tommy nodded.

"I always wondered why there were no cards with the gifts." She smiled up at him. "I've loved all your presents, especially the music box."

"I'm glad they pleased you, _cara_," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. "And now I must go." (A/N: FYI - _Cara Mia _means _my dear _in Italian.)

"Oh." She looked away, but not before he saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"Do you wish for me to stay?"

"Yes, please."

With a sigh, he drew a chair up beside her bed and sat down. "Shall I read to you?" he asked, glancing at the book she'd been reading.

"No, I finished it. But you could tell me a story."

"I'm not much of a story teller," he remarked and then, seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he acquiesced with a slight nod.

"Many years ago, in a distant country, there was a young man. He came from a very large family. A very poor family. He was 16 when a mysterious illness spread through their village. He watched his whole family die, one by one, and when they were all gone, he laid them side by side in their cottage and then set it on fire.

For many years, he traveled the land, and then, when he was 29, he met a woman, and for the first time in life, he fell in love, so much in love that he never questioned who she was, or why she would see him only at night.

And then one day he contracted a fever, and he knew he was going to die the same horrible death that had claimed his family. Though he was loath to admit it, even to himself, he was terribly afraid to die.

The woman he loved came to him when he was on the very brink of death. Weeping from pain and fear, he begged her to save him."

" 'I can do it,' she said. 'I can do as you wish, but the price will be dear.' "

" 'Anything,' he said.' "

" ' And if the price is your soul, will you still pay it?' "

"Foolish man that he was, he agreed. And the woman, whom he thought was an angel, carried him away in a dance of darkness. And when he awoke again, he realized he'd struck a bargain, not with an angel, but with the devil. And though he would now live forever, he would never live at all."

"I don't understand," Jude said frowning. "What was the man? Who was the woman? How could he live forever, but not live at all?"

"It's only an old fairy tale, Jude," Tommy replied. He glanced out the window, the stood up. "This time I really must go," he said. "Rest well, _cara mia_."

"Thank you for the story."

"You are most welcome," he replied softly, and bending, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

"Good night."

"Will you come back tomorrow night?"

"If you wish."

"I do."

"Until tomorrow, then."

"Until tomorrow," she called as he moved through the doorway. "Sweet dreams."

A muscle twitched in Tommy's jaw as he vaulted over the railing that enclosed the veranda. Sweet dreams, indeed, he mused bitterly.

And landing lightly on the damp ground, he disappeared into the darkness, as silent as the rising sun.

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**C'mon guys I know your reading this! R & R!! Oh, check out Blackmailed Bride by trapt2504...It's soooo good!!! Thanks again! **


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

For, Jude, the hours of the day had always passed slowly. Bound to her chair, there wasn't much she could do to pass the time. There were no other girls in the orphanage her age, so she had little companionship. True, she loved to read. She had a fine hand with a needle. She enjoyed painting. But they were all leisurely occupations, and none of them made the hours hurry swiftly by.

Sometimes, Sister Georgia came to sit with her, regaling Jude with stories of her childhood in Sicily. Sister Georgia had been the oldest daughter in a household of ten daughters and two sons. She told of milking cows and goats, of gathering eggs, of shaving her younger brother's head because he threw her favorite doll down the well.

But on this day Sister Georgia was tending the babies, and the other nuns were busily preparing for the Sabbath. And never had Jude yearned for the hours of daylight to end as much as she did now. For Tommy would come with the darkness.

She was too excited to do more than toy with her food.

"Is something wrong, Jude?" Sister Georgia asked.

Jude glanced up guiltily, "No, Sister."

"You've hardly touched your supper."

"I'm not very hungry. May I please be excused?"

Sister Mary and Sister Georgia exchanged glances...then Sister Georgia nodded. "I shall be in later to help you get ready for bed."

With a nod, Jude went to her room and closed the door.

She was the only girl in the orphanage who had her own room, a fact she never appreciated more than now. They had told her it was because she was the eldest, because it was difficult to carry her chair up and down the stairs, but Jude thought it was because they knew she would most likely be in their care for the rest of her life, a fact Jude had gradually come to accept years ago as she watched one child after another leave the orphanage for a new life.

It had been painful, watching couples come to the home, watching them pass her by with hardly a glance when they realized she was crippled. She couldn't blame them for wanting younger children, children who were whole. But it had hurt just the same.

With a toss of her head, she put such thoughts aside. What did it matter now, when Tommy was coming?

She brushed her hair until it gleamed like a newly minted gold coin, and all the while she kept glancing at the veranda doors, knowing it was to early for him to appear, yet growing more anxious with each passing minute.

Sister Georgia came in to help her get ready for bed, helping her with the chamber pot, helping her into her nightgown, helping her get into bed.

"Don't forget to say your prayers, child," the nun said.

"I won't, Sister. Good night."

"Good night Jude. God bless you."

The minutes ticked by, and still he didn't come. She heard the tower clock chime eight, heard the clock chime nine, ten.

Had he forgotten? Or simply changed his mind? Perhaps he'd never meant to come at all.

She was about to extinguish the night light when she felt a breath of air whisper past her cheek. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him outlined against the veranda door.

"Tommy! You came!"

"I said I would, did I not?"

Jude nodded as happiness welled up inside her.

"Have I come too late?"

"No."

She held out her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room. And then, to her utter astonishment, he dropped to one knee, took her hand in his, and kissed it.

The touch of his lips swept through her like wild fire.

Images imprinted themselves on her mind: the black silk of his hair, the dry warmth of his lips, the width of the shoulders beneath the voluminous folds of the black cloak.

And then he lifted his head, and she gazed into his eyes.

Fathomless gray eyes that seemed to see into her and through her.

Eyes filled with an immeasurable anguish that went deeper than sorrow.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet, as if he feared she had seen more than she should. His hand disappeared inside his cloak and reappeared with a book.

"For you," he said.

It was a volume of poetry, exquisitely bound. The pages were of fine parchment edged in gold leaf.

She would not have cared if the book were old and ragged, not if it came from him. But this...aside from her music box, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Thank you." She gazed up at him, clutching the book to her breast. "Will you read it to me?"

"If you wish."

She held it out to him, felt a shiver of delight race up her spine as his hand brushed hers. After removing his cloak, he lowered himself to the floor, his back braced against her bed.

Opening the book, he began to read. The poem was a song of unrequited love, filled with dark imagery and sensual innuendo.

His voice was deep, resonant, mellifluous. It conjured up images of moonlight nights, of faraway places and forbidden desires, of fair maidens and armored knights on white chargers, of love lost and love found.

The lamplight cast deep shadows over his profile and haloed his hair with silver.

He turned the page, and his voice filled the room, winding around her, cocooning her, until she was no longer a helpless invalid, but a fairy queen holding court on a golden cloud, a sea nymph riding the back of an enchanted porpoise, an elf dancing on the petal of a fragrant flower blossom.

There was magic in his voice, in the wondrous rhymes, in the very air around them.

She gazed at his profile and saw an arrogant warrior riding fearlessly into battle, a swarthy outlaw demanding justice, a proud prince knight in tarnished armor.

She had no idea how long she had been staring at him before she realized he had stopped reading.

She felt the color rush to her cheeks as his gaze met hers, and she felt suddenly confused, as if she had just awakened from a dream. It had all seemed so real, and as she looked deep into Tommy's eyes, she realized that he had been the warrior, the outlaw, the knight in tarnished armor.

Tommy stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyes, as blue as the sky he had not seen in over three hundred years, were no longer the eyes of a child but the eyes of a girl on the brink of womanhood. In a single glance, he noticed for the first time that there was no longer any hint of girlishness in her face or form. Her lips were full and naturally pink. Her neck was slender, graceful. Her hands were soft and smooth, and he felt a sudden shaft of heat spiral through him as he imagined her arms holding him, her hands caressing him.

She took a deep breath, and he noticed that she had taken on the full, pleasantly rounded shape of a woman.

But most startling of all was the realization that she was looking at him as if he were a man.

In a single fluid motion, he rose to his feet and dropped the book into her lap.

For a long moment, he held her in the heat of his gaze and then he reached for his cloak. The dark wool swirled around him like fog on a dark night as he settled it over his shoulders, and he was gone.

"Tommy?" She blinked several times, wondering if she had, indeed, dreamed the whole thing. She picked up the book, still warm from his touch, and laid her cheek against the cover.

She hadn't imagined it. He _had _been there.

Closing her eyes, she prayed he would come to see her again.

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He melted into the rising mists of darkness, welcoming the cold of the night, embracing the chill wind that blew off the river.

He had read to her from an ancient book of poetry, and she had stolen into his heart and caught a glimpse of his soul. She must have seen the darkness there, an emptiness that was deeper and blacker than the bowels of hell.

Why hadn't she been afraid?

Others had looked into his eyes and run away in fear...those who had not run fast enough, or far enough, had died.

Why hadn't she been afraid? How could he ever face her again?

He felt the anger rise up within him, and with it the lust for blood, the urge to kill.

He tried to ignore it, but n this night the hunger would not be denied.

Like a dark wraith, he prowled the near-deserted streets until he found what he was looking for, a homeless drunkard lying in the stinking refuse of an alleyway.

Like the angel of death, he hovered over the man, his long black cloak shrouding them in darkness as silent as the grave...

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Sated, yet filled with self-disgust, Tommy stormed into the long-neglected monastery where he had made his home for the past 13 years. It was dark and gloomy inside, and he was content to leave it so. He had other dwellings...an ancient castle in Salamanca, a spacious apartment on a secluded street in Marseilles, a cottage in the Highlands of Scotland. The castle was his favorite abode. It was even older than he was, but he had refurbished it inside and out, until it again stood upon the hill as proud and glorious as it had once been.

But this place...he found it ironic that one as cursed as he should dwell within its walls, that a place that had once been hallowed by the presence of hundreds of righteous, God-fearing men should now be inhabited by a demon most foul.

Crosswick Abbey had once been a beautiful edifice, home of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Heart, but now the whitewashed stone walls were gray and crumbling...the stained glass windows that were still intact were dulled by years of dust and neglect...the cross that had once adorned the steepled roof had decayed long since.

Why hadn't she been afraid?

He walked past the chapel, past the long row of small, cold cells, into the high-ceilinged room that had once been used to welcome visitors to the abbey. It was the longest room in the building save for the chapel.

He dropped into the huge, high-backed chair he had taken for his own. For the first times in decades, he was filled with self-loathing for who and what he was. What right did he have to survive at the cost of another's life? What right did he have to inflict his presence on a child as pure and sweet as Jude? She would be horrified if she knew what manner of creature came to her in the dark of the night.

He stared at the blood on his hands, and knew he could not see her again.

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She waited for him the next night, and the next. And when a week passed and still he did not come, she refused to leave her room, refused to eat, or to drink anything except a little water now and then.

With the covers pulled up to her chin, she stared at the veranda doors, waiting, knowing he would not come.

Sister Georgia and Sister Mary hovered over her, begging her to eat something, weeping softly when she refused to answer their questions. Kneeling at he bedside, they prayed for her soul.

"What is it, Jude?" they asked time and time again. "Are you ill? In pain? Please, child tell us what's wrong."

But she couldn't tell them about Tommy, so she only shook her head, silent tears tracking her cheeks.

The doctor came, only to go away shaking his head. She overheard him tell the good sisters there was nothing physically wrong with her...it was only that she had lost the will to live.

And so she had. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Soon, she would no longer be a burden to anyone.

He stood on the balcony and stared at the rain, wondering why it reminded him of tears, and then, riding on the heels of the wind, he heard the sound of weeping.

Between one breath and the next, he was down the stairs and out the rusty iron gate, running with demon speed through the night, her name like the prayer of the damned on his lips.

He vaulted the wall of the orphanage with ease, crossed the grounds, as silent as a shadow. Pausing at the veranda door, he peered inside. She lay beneath a heavy quilt, as still as death.

The complete absence of sound within the room echoed in his heart like thunder.

A wave of his hand opened the door and he stepped inside, then hurried to her side.

"Jude!" He threw back the quilt and lifted her into his arms. Her skin was dry and cold...her lips were blue. "Jude!"

She was dying. The knowledge struck him to the heart. She was dying, and it was his fault.

Without stopping to think of right or wrong, without pausing to consider the consequences, he opened the vein in his wrist and pressed it to her lips.

"Drink, Jude," he urged.

He waited for what seemed an eternity, but she didn't move. Frantic, he forced her lips apart, held his bleeding wrist over her mouth, and stroked her throat to make her swallow.

Not too much, he thought. He didn't want to initiate her, only bring the color back in her cheeks.

He removed his wrist from her mouth, and the wound healed almost instantly. "Jude?"

Her eyelids fluttered a moment and then she was staring up at him. "Tommy?"

He cradled her against his chest, relief rushing through him. "I'm here."

"You didn't come. I waited and waited...and you didn't come."

"I won't leave you again, _cara._"

There was a bowl of broth and a glass of water on a tray on the bedside table. The soup had gone cold, but he warmed it with the heat of his gaze.

"Jude, I want you to eat this."

"I'm not hungry."

"Please, _cara_, for me."

"All right..."

Obediently, she swallowed several spoonfuls of the clear broth.

"No more," she murmured.

He put the bowl on the table, then drew her into his arms again. "Sleep now."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"No, but I will come to you tomorrow night."

"On your honor, you promise?"

"I have no honor, _cara_, but I promise I will be here tomorrow night."

She summoned a faint smile, then, with a sigh, her eyelids fluttered down once more.

He held her for as long as he dared, his fingertips drifting over her hair, sometimes caressing the gentle curve of her cheek, until he felt the distant heat of the sun making its way over the horizon.

Only then did he let her go.

Only then did he admit that he would do anything, even surrender his own life, to keep her safe.

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She woke feeling better than she had in months. Inexplicably, her legs felt stronger, and even though she attributed it to her imagination, it seemed as though she could feel the blood flowing through her useless legs. Sitting up in bed, she wiggled her toes, something she'd never been able to do before.

The sisters proclaimed her recovery nothing short of a miracle.

Her appetite had returned,as well. Sitting at the breakfast table a half hour later, she ate everything Sister Georgia placed before her, and then asked for more.

She didn't miss the surprised looks that passed between Sister Mary and Sister Georgia.

Later, sitting outside, she watched the younger children at play and for the first time in her life, she wasn't jealous of their ability to run and jump.

Lifting her face to the sun, she offered a silent prayer to God, thanking Him for the beauty of the day, for the gift of life, for Tommy...

Unable to help herself, she laughed softly as happiness bubbled up inside her. Tommy had promised to come to her that night. More important, he had promised never to leave her again.

Later, she read a fairy tale to several of the children. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to spend the rest of her life here, Jude thought as she turned the pages. She could become a nun, if they would have her...if not, they might let her stay on and teach.

She paused in the story, looking over the top of the book into the faces of the children sitting on the grass at her feet. Such sweet faces, innocent and trusting, so eager to love and be loved.

Six-year old Staci smiled up at her, her eyes alight with anticipation as she waited for Jude to finish the story.

She could be happy here, Jude mused. If she could never have a child of her own, at least she could have children around her, children who needed love. And who could sympathize with them more, understand them more, than she?

She read another story, and then waved good-bye as Sister Mary called the children away. It was nap time.

Left alone, Jude gazed at the floor that bloomed in wild profusion along the walkways. Today, with the sun shining and her heart filled with the certainty of seeing Tommy, life seemed wonderful, perfect, filled with promise.

Today, with thoughts of Tommy crowding her mind, anything seemed possible.

"Hurry to me, beloved," she whispered. "Hurry to me."

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**A/N: Cmon people!!! Let's get some reviews in plz! lol It might be couple of days, the next chapter is gonna be totally Jommy!**


	6. Chapter 5 pt1

**Chapter 5 pt. 1**

He was on the brink of awareness when he heard her voice.

Startled, he sat up, wondering if he had dreamed it. And then he heard it again, her voice, as loud and clear as if she stood beside him.

_Hurry to me, beloved. hurry to me. _

Beloved...

He closed his eyes, basking in the sound of that single word. Beloved. If only it were true.

He dressed hurriedly, anxious to see her again, to see her smile, hear her voice caress his name.

He raced through the night, his preternatural speed carrying him quickly to where she waited for him.

She was sitting up in bed, an angel in a high-necked, long-sleeved gown. Her hair fell over her slender shoulders in endless waves of honey gold.

His heart quickened when he met her gaze and saw the way her eyes brightened at the sight of him.

Ah, Jude, he thought, if you only knew what manner of man stands before you, you would not be so glad to see me.

Her smile was brighter than the sun at noonday.

"So," he said quietly, "tell me about your day."

Pleased at his interest, she told him of how she'd spent the day reading to the younger children, of how she had envisioned herself as a nun, helping to teach the other orphans.

A nun! The word thundered through him. A nun! But what a waste that would be, to clothe her frail beauty in robes of somber black, to cut away that wealth of gold-colored hair, to bury her forever behind these walls where she would doubtless receive the love of numerous children but never know the love of a man, or give birth to a child of her own.

A nun. He nearly choked on the word, on the idea. And then jealousy rose up within him, coiling around his heart. Better she should be a nun than find happiness in the arms of another man. A mortal man.

Right or wrong, he knew he would destroy any man who dared to touch her.

"Tommy?" She was looking up at him, her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Of course."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes." He sat down on the stool beside her bed. "I'm sure you would make a fine nun, _cara_, if that is your desire."

"It isn't, really." She lowered her gaze to her hands. "I want what every girl wants," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "A husband, A home of my own. Children."

He grunted softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing, and she looked up at him again, her eyes aglow.

"I do want those things," she said, "but what I really want is to dance! Oh, Tommy, if only I could dance."

"I'm afraid I cannot transform you into a ballerina," he said with regret, "but you could dance with me, if you like."

"With you? How?"

"Like this."

Effortlessly, he lifted her from the bed and held her in his arms so that her feet were mere inches above the floor. And then, to her utter surprise, he began to sing, his voice soft and clear as he waltzed her around the room.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, mesmerized by the sound of his voice, and then, as he whirled her around and around, pleasure bubbled up inside her like a wellspring, erupting in peals of happy laughter. Ah, the wonder of it, she thought as he twirled her around with all the innate grace of a dancing master. She felt light and free, with her hair floating about her shoulders and Tommy's voice wrapping around her, making her forget that it was his feet, and not hers, gliding smoothly over the polished floorboards.

He held her so lightly, so easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. His arm curled around her waist, strong yet gentle. His hand held hers, warm, callused, a man's hand.

The laughter died in her throat as she gazed into his eyes, those fathomless gray eyes that held all the sadness of the world.

She hardly realized he had stopped dancing, stopped singing, so lost was she in the depths of his gaze. He held her body to his with both arms now, and she could feel every inch of his hard masculine form pressed against hers. The sadness in his eyes was burned away by a sudden blaze of emotion that she did not recognize. She felt the heat of it spiral through her, making her aware of him in ways she had noticed only in passing before. He was tall and muscular. His shoulders and chest were broad. She could feel the heat of his body, the maleness of it, where it touched hers.

How well they fit together, she mused, and even as the thought crossed her mind, she became acutely aware of her own body, of a sudden restlessness. She wanted him to hold her closer, tighter. She wanted him to kiss her, the way the prince kissed the princess in the fairy tale.

"Tommy..." She leaned toward him, until all she saw was his face, his eyes.

"No." With a choked cry, he carried her back to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress as if her skin burned his hands.

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A/N: Ooohh, cliffhanger...sry guys i had to do it, lol. BUT...if you all review I might be nice and posted the seond half tomorrow. It's so like Tommy to ruin the moment,lol Thanks again to all my readers, please R &R 


	7. Chapter 5 pt2

**A/N: I'm sooo sorry, it took so long to post this. My computer was acting up. Thanks for waiting, enjoy... **

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**Chapter 5 pt. 2**

"What is it?" she asked confused. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" He laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "Ah, Jude, you foolish child. If you only knew..."

"Knew what?"

He clenched his hands at his sides in an effort to still the monster rising within him. Not for centuries had he satisfied his unholy desire with a girl as young, as pure, as Jude. Not since he'd first been made a vampire had he quenched his thirst with the blood of an innocent.

"Tommy?"

Ah, the sweet, trusting sound of her voice as she whispered his name, the unconscious yearning, the untapped passion. He could hear every beat of her heart, hear the thrumming of her blood as it pulsed through her veins, thick with desire. It was almost more than he could bear.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. This was Jude, his girl. He could not violate her. He would not take her blood, though to do so would be ecstasy.

"Tommy, are you ill?"

"No." The word was one of harsh denial. "But I must go."

"So soon?"

"Yes." He opened his eyes and forced a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night." She repeated the words, holding them close to her heart

"Good night, _cara_," he said, his voice thick, and then he was gone, running as if he, himself, were being pursued by demons.

He ran for hours, unable to outrun his loneliness, his longing, and then, filled with self-loathing, he entered the monastery. He had no need of a light as he made his way down the long, winding staircase that led to the underground catacombs where the monks had buried their dead. It was a dark place, musty with age and decay.

To punish himself, he climbed into the coffin he rarely used. Grasping the lid, he brought it down with a resounding thud, burying himself in the smothering darkness he hated.

"Monster," he murmured, and the word echoed off the sides of the oak casket. "Demon. Ghoul. Fiend. You will not touch her, you misbegotten spawn of the devil," he declared, his voice growing thick as the heavy sleep of the undead dragged him down, down, into the deep abyss of oblivion.

"You...will...not..."

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He woke the following evening, a moment of panic rising within him as he opened his eyes to eternal darkness. And then he remembered where he was.

Muttering an oath, he climbed out of the coffin. He he had not used it in more than years than he could remember , preferring to take his rest in the big throne like chair upstairs.

He stared at the burnished oak for a long time, reminding himself of what he was. Not a man, but a monster, fit for nothing but death and darkness.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs. Deep in thought, he changed his clothes, combed his hair, donned his cloak.

As if to further punish himself for wanting what could never be his, he went out into the shadows, a bloodthirsty beast stalking its prey.

_This is what you are. _The words echoed and reechoed in his head as he bent over his hapless victim. _Don't let her sweetness fool you into thinking you're still a man, capable of loving, of being loved. You're naught but a monster, every man's nightmare..._

A short time later, he was walking toward the orphanage. And all the while, he tired to convince himself to stay away from her. His Jude, his angel of light, should not be contaminated by the darkness of his soul.

He was still trying to talk himself into staying away as he vaulted the orphanage's high stone wall.

She was waiting for him. He had expected to find her tucked into bed, but she was sitting in her chair, facing the veranda doors. Her goodness, her sweetness, reached out to him, washing over him like sunlight.

"A new dress," he remarked as he crossed the threshold.

She nodded shyly. "I made it."

"It's lovely," he murmured. And, indeed, it was. The deep blue darkened her eyes, the full sleeves reminded him of angel's wings. "You are lovely."

His words brought a flush to her cheeks. "Thank you."

"So lovely." He held out his hand. "Would you go out with me , _cara_?"

"Out?" She looked puzzled. "Out where?"

"Wherever you like."

"Anywhere?"

"The ballet?"

"If you wish."

She smiled, radiant with happiness. For as long as she could remember, she had longed to go to the ballet, to see _Swan Lake, Giselle, The Sleeping Beauty, Don Quixote._ She had studied the lives of many of the great ballerinas, like Marie Taglioni, Fanny Elssler, Carlotta Grisi, Francesca Cerrito, and Marie Salle.

And now her dream was about to come true. Then she glanced down at her dress, and her happiness dissipated like dew beneath the sun.

"I can't go. I don't have anything suitable to wear."

"You will," he said cryptically, and before she could ask questions, he was gone.

"Tommy!" Shoulders sagging, she stared into the darkness, wondering if he was gone for the night.

An hour later, he was back. "For you," he said, and with a flourish, he reached inside his cloak and withdrew a gown of ice-blue satin.

Jude glanced at the dress, at Tommy, and back at the dress, unable to believe her eyes, "For me?"

"You don't like it?"

Not like it? It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She looked up at him , too dazed to speak.

"Can you...shall I..." He swore softly. "Will you let me help you change?"

She felt her cheeks flame as she nodded. Deftly, he helped her out of her dress and into the gown, lacing her up with such casual nonchalance that it eased her embarrassment. The satin was smooth and cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch.

There were slippers and gloves to match. He pulled them from beneath his cloak, making her wonder if he was conjuring them from thin air.

She felt like the princess in a fairy tale. "How do I look?

"See for yourself," he said, and lifting the mirror from the wall, he held it in front of her.

She did look like a princess, she thought. The gown was a study in simple elegance, the bodice fitted, the full skirt sweeping the floor. Fine white lace edged the scalloped neckline.

"It's the most exquisite thing i've ever seen," she said, mesmerized by the miracle the gown had wrought in her appearance . Her eyes seemed bluer...her cheeks were flushed with excitement. "Where did you get it?"

"Does it matter?" he asked as he replaced the mirror, careful to keep to one side so that she wouldn't notice that his form cast no reflection in the glass.

Jude shook her head.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out onto the veranda.

"You can't carry me all the way to the opera house," she remarked as he started across the yard.

"No need." He gestured to the surrey waiting outside the gate. "We'll ride."

It was like a dream, a wonderful dream, the ride through the streets the feel of the breeze in her hair, the warmth of his shoulder next to her own, the brush of his thigh against hers when he shifted on the leather seat.

The ballet had already started when they arrived. As if he did it every day, he lifted her from the seat and carried her into the theater, nodding at the doorman, climbing the stairs with ease, carrying her into a private box.

Gently, he placed her in one of the red velvet chairs, then sat down in the other one.

She couldn't believe she was there. Her gaze swept the theater, from the frescoes painted on the ceiling to the heavy drapes that framed the stage. Leaning forward, she stared at the people seated below...elegant women gowned in lustrous silks and stains, handsome men attired in black evening clothes. And she was a part of them. She lifted her chin, feeling as if she belonged, as if she were, indeed, a princess.

And then, very slowly, she faced the stage.

A sigh of wonder, of awe, escaped her lips as she saw the ballerina for the first time. The dancer moved like a feather on the wind, light,m airy, graceful. Each movement was perfection, perfectly timed, flawlessly executed.

Mesmerized by the sinuous blending of music and dance, Jude forgot everything but the woman who seemed to float effortlessly across the stage, her tiny feet encased in white ballet slippers.

They were doing _Giselle, _created by Carlotta Grisi in Paris in 1841. The story was one of Jude's favorites. She watched, entranced, as the peasant girl, Giselle, fell in love with the handsome Albrecht, a nobleman disguised as a peasant boy. She wept softly when Hilarison, who also loved Giselle, told her the truth about Albrecht. Upon learning that her beloved was betrothed to another, Giselle died of a broken heart.

"So sad," Jude murmured as the curtain came down on the first act. "So sad, but so beautiful."

"Yes," Tommy said, his hooded gaze locked on Jude's face, his voice husky. "So beautiful."

More than beautiful, he thought. Her cheeks were rosy with delight, her eyes were shining, her lips slightly parted. He could hear the excited beat of her heart, hear the blood humming through her veins, feel his own heart beating in cadence with hers.

Hands curled into tight fists, he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers, trying not to stare at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat, trying to forget that she carried his blood in her veins. Trying not to think of what it would be like to savor the sweetness of her lifeblood.

With a supreme effort of will, he forced such thoughts away and concentrate on the music, on the look of delight on Jude's face.

Jude leaned forward as the curtain went up on Act Two, fascinated as Giselle was transformed into a Wili, a spirit who haunted the woods at night, enticing men to dance until they expired of exhaustion. Tears stung her eyes as Hilarion was killed by the Wilis and Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis, forced Giselle to attempt to destroy Albrecht in the same way. But Albrecht was spared, first by taking shelter under the cross on Giselle's grave, and then by dancing with Giselle until dawn, when Giselle returned to her grave.

When it was over, Jude sat back in her chair, a soft sigh escaped her lips "Thank you, Tommy," she said, her voice tinged with awe.

"You're welcome, _cara_."

"Wasn't she wonderful? I don't think Grisi could have done it better. Do you think Albrecht was really in love with Giselle? How could a nobleman make a whole village believe he was a peasant?"

Tommy shrugged. "People believe what they want to believe," he said, and sat back in the seat, content to listen as Jude spoke enthusiastically of the costumes, the music, and always the ballerina.

When the theater was empty, he lifted her into his arms and carried her down the stairs and out to the surrey. Removing a robe from under the seat, he placed it over her lap, picked up the reins, and clucked to the horses.

It was a clear night, cool, with a slight breeze. A full moon hung low in the sky.

As they rode through the moon-dappled darkness, Jude was again aware of the man beside her. Inside the theater, she had been caught up in the magic of the music and the dancing, bu there, in the quiet of a late summer night, alone with Tommy, the ballet seemed far distant.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, studying his profile, noting the way the moonlight turned his hair to silver. He was a handsome man, dark and mysterious. And lonely.

The thought struck her with the force of a blow, and she realized that loneliness surrounded him, that it was his aloneless that called out to her above all else.

Too soon, they reached the orphanage and he was carrying her into her room.

Gently, he placed her in her chair and suddenly the magic was gone. She was Jude again.

"The dress," she said, blinking back her tears. "I can't keep it."

He nodded his understanding. There was no way for her to explain to the nuns how she came to have such an expensive gown.

Keeping his face impassive, he carried her to the bed, quickly divested her of the elegant blue dress, and helped her into her night rail. Kneeling at her feet as if he played ladies' maid every day, he removed the satin slippers, drew the gloves from her hands.

"I had a wonderful time," Jude murmured. "Thank you."

"Until tomorrow night, then," he said. Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm. "Sleep well, _cara_."

She blinked back a tear, and he was gone.

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**Teasers for Chapter 6**

_"Where will we go tonight?"_

_"A horse?"_

_"You should be afraid, Jude"_

_"Are you a man or a magician?" --- "Neither"_

_"They're so easy to love." --- "So are you."_

_"I would love you, Tommy."_

_"You're not trying to tell me good-bye, are you?"_

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**A/N: Oooh, how'd you like those teasers??? lol So hard to guess what's gonna happen. Well, the sooner everyone reviews, the sooner i'll post the next chapter!!! Thanks again to all of you.**


	8. Chapter 6

**A/N: I wanna give a special thanks to those who reviewed. You don't know how much it means to me when I read those. You make me wanna keep going. Thanks again. To everyone who read and didn't review...shame on you,lol j/k Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. Please R&R!!!!!! 

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Chapter 6

He walked the streets for hours after he left the orphanage, his thoughts filled with Jude, her fragile beauty, her sweet innocence, her unwavering trust. She had accepted him into her life without question, and the knowledge cut him to the quick. He did not like deceiving her, did not like hiding the dark secret of what he was, nor did he like to think about how badly she would be hurt when his nighttime visits ceased, as they surely must.

He had loved her from the moment he first saw her, but always from a distance, worshiping her as the moon might worship the sun, basking in her heat, her light, but wisely staying away lest he be burned.

And now, foolishly, he had strayed too close. He had soothed her tears, held her in his arms, and now he was paying the price. He was burning, like a moth drawn to a flame. Burning with need. With desire. With an unholy lust, not for her body, but for the very essence of her life.

It sickened him that he should want her that way, that he could even consider such a despicable thing. And yet he could think of little else. Ah, to hold her in his arms, to feel his body become one with hers as he drank of her sweetness...

For a moment, he closed his eyes and let himself imagine it, and then he swore, a long, vile oath filled with pain and longing.

Hands clenched, he turned down a dark street, his self-anger turning to loathing, and the loathing to rage. He felt the need to kill, to strike out, to make someone else suffer as he was suffering.

Pity the poor mortal who next crossed his path, he thought, and gave himself over to the hunger pounding through him.

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She woke covered with perspiration, Tommy's name on her lips. Shivering, she drew the covers up to her chin.

It had only been a dream. Only a dream.

She spoke the words aloud, finding comfort in the sound of her own voice. A distant bell chimed the hour. Four o'clock.

Gradually, her breathing returned to normal. Only a dream, she said again, but it had been so real. She had felt the cold breath of the night, smelled the rank odor of fear rising from the body of the faceless man cowering in the shadows. She had sensed a deep anger, a wild, uncontrollable evil personified by a being in a flowing black cloak. Even now, she could feel his anguish, his loneliness, the alienation that cut him off from the rest of humanity.

It had all been so clear in the dream, but now it made no sense. No sense at all.

With a slight shake of her head, she snuggled deeper under the covers and closed her eyes.

It was just a dream, nothing more.

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Sunk in the depths of despair, Tommy prowled the deserted abbey. What had happened to his self-control? Not for centuries had he taken enough blood to kill, only enough to ease the pain of the hunger, to ease his unholy thirst.

A low groan rose in his throat. Jude had happened. he wanted her and couldn't have her. Somehow, his desire and his frustration had gotten tangled up with his lust for blood.

It couldn't happen again. It had taken him centuries to learn to control the hunger, to give himself the illusion that he was more man than monster.

Had he been able, he would have prayed for forgiveness, but he had forfeited the right to divine intervention long ago.

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"Where will we go tonight?"

Tommy stared at her. She'd been waiting for him again, clothed in her new dress, her eyes bright with anticipation. Her goodness drew him, soothed him, calmed his dark side even as her beauty, her innocence, teased his desire.

He stared st the pulse throbbing in her throat. "Go?"

Jude nodded.

With an effort, he lifted his gaze to her face. "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't suppose you have a horse?"

"A horse?"

"I've always wanted to ride."

He bowed from the waist. "Whatever you wish, milady," he said. "I'll not be gone long."

It was like having found a magic wand, Jude mused as she waited for him to return. She had only to voice her desire, and he produced it.

Twenty minutes later, she was seated before him on a prancing black stallion. It was a beautiful animal, tall and muscular, with a flowing mane and tail.

She leaned forward to stroke the stallion's neck. His coat felt like velvet beneath her hand. "What's his name?"

"Necromancer," Tommy replied, pride and affection evident in his tone.

"Necromancer? What does it mean?"

"One who communicates with the spirits of the dead."

Jude glanced at him over her shoulder. "That seems an odd name for a horse."

"Odd, perhaps," Tommy replied cryptically, "but fitting."

"Fitting? In what way?"

"Do you want to ride, Jude, or spend the night asking foolish questions?"

She pouted prettily for a moment, and then grinned at him. "Ride!"

A word from Tommy, and they were cantering through the dark night, heading into the country-side.

"Faster," Jude urged.

"You're not afraid?"

"Not with you."

"You should be afraid, Jude," he muttered under his breath, "especially with me."

He squeezed the stallion's flanks with his knees and the horse shot forward, his powerful hooves skimming across the ground.

Jude shrieked with delight, as they raced through the darkness. This was power, she thought, the surging body of the horse, the man's strong arms wrapped securely around her waist. The wind whipped through her hair, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water, but she only threw back her head and laughed.

"Faster!" she cried, reveling in the sense of freedom that surged within her.

Hedges and trees and sleeping farmhouses passed bu in a blur. Once, they jumped a four-foot hedge, and she felt as if she were flying. Sounds and scents blended together...the chirping of crickets, the bark of a dog, the smell of damp earth and lathered horse-flesh, and overall the touch of Tommy's breath upon her cheek, the steadying strength of his arms around her waist.

Tommy let the horse run until the animal's sides were heaving and covered with foamy lather, and then he drew back on the reins, gently but firmly, and the stallion slowed, then stopped.

"That was wonderful!" Jude exclaimed.

She turned to face him, and in the bright light of the moon, he saw that her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her eyes shining like the sun.

How beautiful she was! His Jude, so full of life. What cruel fate had decreed that she should be bound to a wheelchair? She was a vivacious girl, on the brink of womanhood. She should be clothed in silks and satins, surrounded by gallant young men.

Dismounting, he lifted her from the back of the horse. Carrying her across the damp grass, he st down on a large boulder, settling her in his lap.

"Thank you, Tommy," she murmured.

"It was my pleasure, milady."

"Hardly that," she replied with a saucy grin. "I'm sure ladies don't ride pell-mell through the dark astride a big black devil horse."

"No," he said, his gray eyes glinting with amusement, "they don't."

"Have you known many ladies?"

"A few." He stroked her cheek with his forefinger, his touch as light as thistledown.

"And were they accomplished and beautiful?"

Tommy nodded. "But none so beautiful as you."

She basked in his words, in the silent affirmation she read in his eyes.

"Who are you, Tommy?" she asked her voice soft and dreamy. "Are you a man or a magician?"

"Neither."

"But still my angel?"

"Always, _cara_."

With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. How wonderful to sit here in the dark of night with his arms around her. Almost, she could forget that she was crippled. Almost.

She lost all track of time as she sat there, secure in his arms. She heard the chirp of crickets, the sighing of the wind through the trees, the pounding of Tommy's heart beneath her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the touch of his hand in her hair, and then the brush of his lips.

Abruptly, he stood up. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was on the horse's back and Tommy was swinging up behind her. He moved with the lithe grace of a cat vaulting a fence.

She sensed a change in him, a tension she didn't understand. A moment later, his arms locked around her waist and they were riding through the night.

She leaned back against him, braced against the solid wall of his chest. She felt his arms tighten around her, felt his breath on her cheek.

Pleasure surged through her at his touch, and she placed her hand over his forearm, drawing his arm more securely around her, tacitly telling him that she enjoyed his nearness.

She thought she heard a gasp, as if he were in pain, but she shook the notion aside, telling herself it was probably just the wind crying through the trees.

Too soon, they were back at the orphanage.

"You'll come tomorrow?" she asked as he settled her in bed, covering her as if she were a child.

"Tomorrow," he promised. "Sleep well, _cara_."

"Dream of me," she murmured.

With a nod, he turned away. Dream of her, he thought. If only he could!

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"Where would you like to go tonight?" Tommy asked the following evening.

" I don't care, so long as it's with you."

Moments later, he was carrying her along a pathway in the park across from the orphanage.

Jude marveled that he held her so effortlessly, that it felt so right to be carried in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, content. A faint breeze played hide-and-seek with the leaves of the trees. A lovers' moon hung low in the sky. The air was fragrant with night-blooming flowers, but it was Tommy's scent that rose all around her...warm and musky, reminiscent of aged wine and expensive cologne.

He moved lightly along the pathway, his footsteps making hardly a sound. When they came to a stone bench near a quiet pool, he sat down, placing her on the bench beside him.

It was a lovely place, a fairy place. Elegant ferns, tall and lacy, grew in wild profusion near the pool. In the distance, she heard the questioning hoot of an owl.

"What did you do all day?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Tommy shrugged. "Nothing to speak of. And you?"

"I read to the children. Sister Georgia has been giving me more and more responsibility."

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes. I've grown very fond of my little charges. They so need to be loved. To be touched. I had never realized how important it was, to be held, until..." A faint flush stained her cheeks. "Until you held me. There's such comfort in the touch of a human hand."

Tommy grunted softly. Human, indeed, he thought bleakly.

Jude smiled. "They seem to like me, the children. I don't know why."

But he knew why. She had so much love to give, and no outlet for it.

"I hate to think of all the time I wasted wallowing in self-pity," Jude remarked. "I spent so much time sitting in my room, sulking because I couldn't walk, when I could have been helping the children, loving them." She glanced up at Tommy. "They're so easy to love."

"So are you." He had not meant to speak the words aloud, but they slipped out. "I mean, it must be easy for the children to love you. You have so much to give."

She smiled, but it was a sad kind of smile. "Perhaps that's because no one else wants it."

"Jude..."

"It's alright. Maybe that's why I was put here, to comfort the little lost lambs that no one else wants."

_I want you._ The words thundered in his mind, in his heart, in his soul.

Abruptly, he stood up and moved away from the bench. He couldn't sit beside her, feel her warmth, hear the blood humming in her veins, sense the sadness dragging at her heart, and not touch her, take her.

He stared into the depths of the dark pool, the reflection of the water as black as the emptiness of his soul. He'd been alone for so long, yearning for someone who would share his life, needing someone to see him for what he was and love him anyway.

A low groan rose in his throat as the centuries of loneliness wrapped around him.

"Tommy?"

Her voice called out to him, soft, warm, caring.

With a cry, he whirled around and knelt at her feet. Hesitantly, he took her hands in his.

"Jude, can you pretend I'm one of the children? Can you hold me, and comfort me, just for tonight?"

"I don't understand."

"Don't ask questions, _cara_. Please, just hold me, touch me."

She gazed down at him, into the fathomless depths of his dark gray eyes, and the loneliness she saw there pierced her heart. Tears stung her eyes as she reached for him.

He buried his face in her lap, ashamed of the need that he could no longer deny. And then he felt her hand stroke his hair, light as a summer breeze. Ah, the touch of a human hand, warm, fragile, pulsing with life.

Time ceased to have meaning as he knelt there, his head cradled in her lap, her hand moving in his hair, caressing his nape, feathering across his cheek. No wonder the children loved her. A sense of peace settled over him, stilling his hunger. He felt the tension drain out of him, to be replaced with a near-forgotten sense of calm. It was a feeling as close to forgiveness as he would ever know.

After a time, he lifted his head. Slightly embarrassed, he gazed up at her, but there was no censure in her eyes, no disdain, only a wealth of understanding.

"Why are you so alone, my angel?" she asked quietly.

"I have always been alone," he replied, and even now, when he was nearer to peace of spirit than he had been for centuries, he was aware of the vast gulf that separated him, not only from Jude, but from all of humanity, as well.

Gently, she cupped his cheek with her hand. "Is there no one to love you, then?"

"No-one."

"I would love you, Tommy."

"No!"

Stricken by the force of his denial, she let her hand fall into her lap. "Is the thought of my love so revolting?"

"No, don't ever think that." He sat back on his heels, wishing he could sit at her feet forever, that he could spend the rest of his existence worshiping her beauty, the generosity of her spirit. "I'm not worthy of you, _cara_. I would not have you waste your love on me."

"Why, Tommy? What have you done that you feel unworthy of love?"

Filled with guilt of a thousand lifetimes, he closed his eyes, and his mind filled with an image, of blood. Rivers of blood. Oceans of death. Centuries of killing, of bloodletting. Damned. The Dark Gift had given him eternal life. And eternal damnation.

Thinking to frighten her away, he let her look deep into his eyes, knowing that what she saw within his soul would speak more eloquently than words.

He clenched his hands, waiting for the compassion in her eyes to turn to revulsion. But it didn't happen.

She gazed down at his upturned face for an endless moment, and then he felt the touch of her hand in his hair.

"My poor angel," she whispered. "Can't you tell me what it is that haunts you so?"

He shook his head, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

"Tommy." His name, nothing more, and then she leaned forward and kissed him.

It was no more than a feathering of her lips across his, but it exploded through him like concentrated sunlight. Hotter than a midsummer day, brighter than lightening, it burned through him, and for a moment he felt whole again. Clean again.

Humbled to the core of his being, he bowed his head so she couldn't see his tears.

"I will love you, Tommy," she said, still stroking his hair. "I can't help myself."

"Jude..."

"You don't have to love me back," she said quickly. "I just wanted you to know that you're not alone anymore."

A long, shuddering sigh coursed through him, and the he took her hands in his, holding them tightly, feeling the heat of her blood, the pulse of her heart. Gently, he kissed her fingertips, and then, gaining his feet, he swung her into his arms.

"It's late," he said, his voice thick with the tide of emotions roiling within him. "We should go before you catch a chill."

"You're not angry?"

"No, _cara._"

How could he be angry with her? She was light and life, hope and innocence, long walks on bright summer days. He was tempted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness for his whole miserable existence.

But he couldn't do that, couldn't burden her with the knowledge of what he was. Couldn't tarnish her love with the truth.

It was near dawn when they reached the orphanage. Once he had her settled in bed, he knelt beside her. "Thank you, Jude."

She turned on her side, a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she took his hand in hers. "For what?"

"For your sweetness. For your words of love. I'll treasure them always."

"Tommy." The smile faded from her lips. "You're not trying to tell me good-bye, are you?"

He stared down at their joined hands...hers small and pale and fragile, pulsing with the energy of life, his large and cold, indelibly stained with blood and death.

If he had a shred of honor left, he would tell her good-bye and never see her again.

But then, even when he had been a mortal man, he'd always had trouble doing the honorable thing when it conflicted with something he wanted. And he wanted - no needed - Jude. Needed her as he'd never needed anything else in his accursed life. And perhaps, in a way, she needed him. And even if it wasn't so, it eased his conscience to think it true.

"Tommy?"

"No, _cara_, I'm not planning to tell you good-bye. Not now. Not ever."

The sweet relief in her eyes stabbed him to the heart. And he, cold, selfish monster that he was, was glad of it. Right or wrong, he couldn't let her go.

"Til tomorrow, then?" she said, smiling once more.

"Till tomorrow, _cara mia,_" he murmured. And for all the tomorrows of your life.

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**Teasers**

_Images flashed through his mind-scattered images of writhing flames, of frightened children crying, of women weeping hysterically._

_Jude! -- She was hurt, perhaps dying, and until sundown there was nothing he could do._

_"Spawn of the devil," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"_


	9. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just didn't wanna break it up into two chapters. So you guys get one really long chapter, lol. And i aploigize now for any spelling mistakes. The spellchecker isn't working right now, and I didn't wanna make you guys wait any longer so I'm posting it anyways. Please R&R

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**Chapter 7**

Images flashed through his mind...scattered images of writhing flames, of frightened children crying, of women weeping hysterically.

Pain seared through him. Excruciating, nauseating pain.

He fought through the layers of oblivion, his gaze opening on darkness. He knew immediately that it was still daylight and for a moment he lay there, confused. Never before had anything save the threat of imminent danger disturbed the heavy lethargy that weighed him down during the light of day.

Jude!

He knew in that moment that her life was in danger, that the pain that had seared through him had been her pain. His hands clenched at his sides as he tried to rise. It was like trying to fight his way out of quicksand, and he fell back, breathing heavily, fear making his heart beat fast.

Jude!

His mind screamed her name, echoing and reechoing like rolling thunder.

Jude!

She was hurt, perhaps dying, and until sundown there was nothing he could do.

Never before had he felt so helpless, so cursed. From the depths of his heart, he cried out, beseeching a kindly heaven to help her, to spare her life.

"Please. Please. Please."

Juse a single word, repeated over and over again, as he was dragged down into the darkness.

When he woke, he could still feel her pain, her anguish, and he knew she was still clinging to life.

_I'm coming, Jude._ He sent his thoughts across the miles, from his heart to hers. _Hang on, cara. I'm coming._

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"He's coming..." Struggling through a morass of pain, Jude repeated the words again and again.

"Lie still, child," Sister Georgia said. "You must lie still."

"But he's...coming. I've...I've got to...be ready."

Sister Georgia glanced up at Sister Mary. "Who's coming? Who can she be talking about?"

Sister Mary shook her head. "Maybe she's thinking of her father. Will you stay with her while I look in on the others? I fear Isabella will not survive the night."

Sister Georgia nodded. "Poor child," she murmured. And bowing her head, she began to pray.

Tommy walked down the narrow hallway, his nostrils filling with the odor of alcohol and antiseptic, of strong carbolic and ether. Of blood. So much blood.

The hunger rose within him, stabbing at him, wrapping around him. Blood. Warm and sweet.

He turned down another hallway, and the lust for blood was overshadowed by pain. Jude's pain. She was unconscious, but her silent screams of agony reached out to him, tearing at his heart, his soul.

On silent feet, he approached the dorrway. She was lying on a narrow bed, covered by a thin white sheet. An elderly nun sat in a straight-backed wooden chair beside the bed, a well-worn rosary clutched in her gnaled hands.

The nin glanced up as he steooed into the room, her rheumy blue eyes widening in horror. "What are you dong here?"

Tommy said nothing, his guilt over what he was rising up to choke him in the face of the old nun's purity of heart and soul.

"Spawn of the devil," she whispered, "why are you here?"

Her words cut him to the quick. "I mean her no harm, Sister, I assure you."

Sister Georgia clutched her rosary to her breastm her thumb caressing the ivory crucifix. "Be gone!"

Tommy shook his head. "I must see her, if oonly for a moment."

Though she was aged and small of stature, the nun bravely put herself between Tommy and Jude.

"You will not have her." Sister Georgia lifted the crucifix, thrusting it toward him. "Be gone, I say!"

Tommy took a step backward and then, drawing on his revenant power, he gazed deep into the nun's eyes, delving into her mind.

"Sit down, Sister," he said quietly.

Slowly, her movements stiff and unnatural, the nun moved to the chair and and sat down.

Tomm passed his hand in front of her face. "Sleep now," he said, his voice quiet, soothing.

He felt a moment of resistance, but the old nun was powerless against the dark power of three hundred and fifty years. Her eyelids closed, her head lolled forward, and she was asleep.

On silent feet, Tommy moved to the bed and gazed down at Jude. Revulsion and a wave of pity rose within him as he stared at her, at the blistered skin on her arms, her hands. He drew back the sheet, tears welling in his eyes as he saw the ugly burns on her chest, her legs. Miraculously, her face had been spared.

She moaned then, a soft cry of agony that tore at the vry edges of his sould. He placed his fingertip against the pulse in her throat. Her heartbeat was slow, her life force weak. She was dying.

"No!" The word was ripped from his throat.

And then he was lifting her in his arms, carrying her swiftly from the room, from the hospital, the power of his mind blinding those he passed to their presence.

With preternatural speed, he raced toward the abbey. Jude lay limp in his arms, hardly breathing. She seemed to weigh nothing at all and he carried her effortlessly.

"Please don't let her die. Please don't let her die."

The words were a prayer in his heart, even though he didn't believe that God would hear him.

When he reached the abbey, he carried her into his room and laid her on the floor. A blink of his eye started a fire in the hearth. Removing his cloak, he spread it before the fireplace, then placed her on it, his heart pounding with fear. She looked so still...her skin, what little hadn't been burned, was as pale as death.

With a sob, he slit the vein in his wrist, parted her lips, and let his blood drip into her mouth. One drop, two. A dozen. How much would it take?

When he judged she'd had enough, he drew the fur-lined cloak around her, then gathered her into his arms. Rising, he sat down in his chair and gazed into the flames.

He held her throughout the night, wondering how the fire had started, listening to her soft moans of pain, her erratic breathing. She sobbed for her mother, her father. Once, she cried his name, begging him to come to her, to help her.

"I'm trying, _cara_," he murmured. "I'm trying."

He felt dawn approaching and knew the time had come to leave her. He held her as long as he could, held her until his body felt drugged, heavy. Reluctantly, he laid her on the floor in front of the hearth, wishing he had a bed for her, blankets. Clothes. And hard on the heels of that thought came the hope that she would have need of those things, that he had given her his accursed blood in time. That he had given her enough. He had no food to give her, only a bottle of aged red wine. He left it on the hearth where she would be sure to see it if she woke, and then, having done all he could, he left her.

On feet that felt heavy as lead, he made his way down to the catacombs and secured the door. With Jude in the house, he would have to take his sleep with the rest of the dead.

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He rose as the sun was going down, the smell of rain heavy in the air. He took the stairs two at a time, ran down the narrow hallway to his room.

Jude lay as he had left her, her blond hair spread like a golden halo around her head.

Murmuring her name, he knelt beside her. Drawing back his cloak, his gaze swept over her from head to foot, and then he let out a long sigh of relief. She was healing. Not as swiftly as he would have, but she was healing. Her skin still looked raw in places, but the blisters were shrinking, drying.

Gently, he covered her once more, and then he closed his eyes as relief washed through him. She would be alright.

"Tommy?"

He opened his eyes to find her staring up at him, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Terrible. What happened?"

"There was a fire at the orphanage."

"A fire! How did it start?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know if Sister Georgia and the other nuns survived the fire? And the children...?" She blinked back a tear as she thought of all the sweet dear children she had grown to care for. Had they been burned, as well?

"I don't know, Jude, but I'll find out."

"Thank you."

She glanced over his shoulder. "Where are we?"

"This is where I...live."

"Here?" She stared at the room, empty save for a large, thronelike chair. There was a faded space on one wall where a lage crucifix had one been. She thought it odd that the room's only window was covered by a thick black cloth. "What is this place?"

"It used to be a monastery."

"And you live here?" She frowned as vague memories of the night of the fire began to surface. "I seem to remember being taken to the hospital. How did I get her?" She stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"No. I want to know why I'm here."

"Thirsty?"

It was obvious he wasn't going to answer her, and she was too muddled by all that had happned to pursue the matter.

"I am thirsty," she said, her throat feeling suddenly dry.

With a nod, Tommy poured her a glass of wine, and she reached for it, her hand halting halfway to the glass.

He saw the horror in her eyes as she gazed at her hand, at the reddened skin, the ugly yellow scabs left by the blisters.

"Jude..."

"My hand. What happened to my hand? My arm?" She threw the cloak aside, the fact that she was naked not registering as she looked at the raw red paches that covered her arms and legs and chest.

He saw the scream rising in her throat, the panicin her eyes, and cursed himself for not thinking to prepare her.

"Jude, listen to me, you're all right."

"All right? How can I be all right?" She stared at him, then slowly shook her head. "I don't understand. Why doesn't it hurt?"

"I..." He took a deep bearth. "I gave you something to aid in the healing."

"Something?"

"A new medicine. Sometimes it works miracles."

He drew the cloak around her. "Rest now, _cara_. Sleep is the best healer of all." He stroked her hair. "Don't be alarmed if I'm not here in the morning," he said. "I may have to go out, but I'll be back by nightfall."

She nodded, and then she closed her eyes and curled into his arms, as trusting as a babe.

He held her until he was certain she was asleep, and then he went out. She would need something to wear when she woke. Clothes. Shoes. Undergarments. A comb and brush and pins for her hair. A bed to sleep in.

Unmindful of the rain, he went into the city. The shopkeepers all knew him. His material wants were few, but he always bought the best, the most expensive, and the tradespeople were eager to serve him. The shops that had closed for the night eagerly opened their doors, anxious to do his bidding.

He bought bread and cheese, a variety of fruits and vegetables, a bottle of vintage wine. He bought a small curved settee covered in blue and green striped damask, a matching footstool, a small table inlaid with ivory, a box of scented candles, a Persian rug, a narrow bed with an elaborately carved headboard, sheets and linens, a pillow stuffed with feathers.

Entering one of the ladies' shops, he picked out several colorful frocks, undergarments, silk stockings, a pair of shoes with silver buckles. Ribbons in rainbow colors for her hair. A bonnet trimmed with feathers and lace. Perfumed soap for her bath. A dark blue cloak trimmed in ermine to keep her warm. A sleeping gown. A dressing gown of rose colored velvet. He bought her a box of chocolates, a feather fan, a pair of gloves, another book of poetry, a bouquet of spring flowers, an elegant crystal vase to put them in.

He was on his way home when he passed a toy shop. The doll in the window immediately caught his eye, and he bought that, too.

Loading all his goods into a rented wagon, he drove back to the abbey.

Jude was still asleep in front of the fire. Moving quietly, he carried the furniture into the room, placing the bed aginst the wall where the crucifix had hung. He mdae the bed as best he could, smoothing the linemns over the plump mattress.

Jue stirred but didn't wake up when he carried her to the bed. Removing his cloak, he drew the sleeping gown over her head, trying not to stare at her softly rounded curves. He tucked her in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then carried in the rest of the furniture. He spread the rug on the floor, placed the settee and the footstool in front of the hearth.

He put the table by the bed, then placed the chocolates and the book of poetry on top, within easy reach, along with a glass of water. The flowers added a touch of color to the drab room.

He filled a small basket with bread and cheese and fruit, covered it with a napkin, and placed it upon the table, as well.

He left the clothing in the boxes, anticipating her excitment whe she saw her new finery. He put the doll within reach of her hand where she would be sure to see it upon waking.

For a moment, he stood in the center of the room, pleased with the changes he'd wrought. Amazing, what a rug and a few pieces of furniture could do, he mused. But it was the woman who gave the room life, the woman who drew him, her life force beckoning the revnent within him while her goodness, her innocence, enticed what little was left of the man he had once been.

Helpless to resist her, he knelt beside the bed and took her hand in his, wanting to be near her for as long as he could.

The fire burned brightly, but it was Jude's presence in the room that warmed him.

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She woke slowly, still caught in the web of her nightmare, and then, as if someone had doused her with cold water, she remembered that it hadn't been a nightmare at all. There had been a fire at the orphanage.

All to vividly, she remembered waking up, her throat burning, her eyes stinging, as tongues of fire licked the edge of her bed. Unable to escape the flames, she had screamed until she was hoarse, sobing for Tommy, her angel, to come and save her. She remembered the awful horror that had coiled within her, the terrible certainty that she was going to die. And then the flames had touched her, licking at her skin...

She hel dup her arm and stared, disbelieving what she saw. The skin, which last night had been raw and red, was almost healed.

Throwing back the covers, she examined her chest, her legs, but saw only the glow of pink healthy skin.

It was impossible. A miracle. She lifted her hand, turning it this way and that, unable to believe the proof of her own eyes.

She frowned a moment,bemused to find herself clad in a modest white sleeping gown. A faint blush heated her cheeks as she realized that Tommy had dressed her for bed, that he had seen her unclothed while she slept.

And then she saw the doll and she forgot everything else.

The ballerina was made of fine china, her face beautifully painted. Her eyes were big and blue, her lips a delicate rose. She wore a tutu of pale pink tulle...dainty pink ballet slippers covered her feet.

"Oh..." Reverently, Jude reached for the doll. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. "Carlotta," she whispered. "I shall name you Carlotta."

Jude glanced around the room, hoping to see Tommy. It was then she noticed the pretty little table beside her bed. Wide-eyed, she stared at the flowers, the book, the heart-shaped box of chocolates, the wicker basket with a linen cloth.

Pulling herself into a sitting position, she reached for the book, carefully turning the pages, and then she reached for the chocolates, her mouth watering.

Candy of any kind had been a rare treat in the orphanage. She quickly gobbled down two pieces, and the laughed. The whole box was for her, to eat at her leisure. She touched the flowers, her fingertips caressing the velvety petals. Flowers. No one had ever given her flowers before.

Feeling like a queen, she nibbled a third chocolate, the ntook a drink of water, wondering all the while where Tommy was.

After a time, she drew the basket onto her lap and peeked inside to find a small loaf of honey bread, a wedge of cheese, grapes, and apples.

Such luxury, she thought, to sit in bed and indulge. She spent the rest of the morning reading. When noontime came, she finished the food in the basket, then took a nap.

When she woke, it was almost dark. Sitting up, she glanced around the dusky room, the need to relieve herself uppermost in her mind.

She was on the verge of tears, afraid she would disgrace herself, when Tommy entered the room.

"You're looking well, _cara,_" he remarked, and then frowned at the expression of distress on her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I need...I need to..." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How did a lady tell a man that she needed a bedpan?

But there was no need, Understanding dawned in the depths of Tommy's eyes. Wordlessly, he swept her into his arms and carried her down a long hall lined with narrow cells.

He stepped into the first cell, uncovered the chamber pot in the corner, raised her gown, and placed her on it.

Avoiding her gaze, he left the room.

She couldn't face him when he returned.

"Jude? Jude, listen to me. You needn't be embarrassed. I'm only sorry I didn't anticipate your needs sooner. Forgive me?"

She mumbled something completely inane under her breath, wishing he would just go away and leave her alone. It had been bad enough when the nuns tended to her, but this was beyond enduring. She wanted him to think of her as a woman, not a helpless child.

"Jude..."

She heard the sound of his footsteps as he crossed the floor, and then he was kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"Jude, look at me."

"I can't."

"It's a perfectly normal function of the body."

She felt her cheeks grow hotter.

"If you're going to stay here with me, you had best get used to my helping you."

"Stay here?" She looked up then. "Do you mean it?"

"If you wish it."

"Oh, I do."

"Good, then let's have no more foolishness." He swung her into his arms and carried her back to her bed. "Did you enjoy the poetry?"

"Yes, thank you. Thank you for everything. Especially for Carlotta." She caressed the doll's hair. Perhaps she was just a child, Jude thought, to be so overjoyed with such a gift.

"I've brought you something to eat," he said, and reaching into a box, he withdrew a steaming platter, placed it on a tray, and set it in her lap. "I hope you like it."

"It smells wonderful," Jude replied. "But aren't you going to eat?"

His gaze slid away from hers. "I've eaten."

"Oh." She didn't know where to begin. The plate was piled high with chicken in a creamy sauce, vegetables dripping with butter. There was a chunk of warm bread dripping honey.

He placed a glass of wine on the table, then inclined his head. "Enjoy your meal, _cara_."

Tommy stood beside the fireplace, gazing at the flames, while she ate. The smell of the chicken sickened him, and yet he yearned to be able to sit beside Jude, to share the meal with her, as a normal man might have done.

He had not eaten solid food in centuries...indeed, the very thought made him physically ill. Fresh blood was his diet now, that and an occasional glass of red wine.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. She looked vibrant and alive. Cursed though he might be, his blood had saved her. The hideous burns and blisters had all but disappeared. In another day or two, they would be completely gone.

He stared into the flames again. Tomorrow...how long could he keep her here? How could he bear to let her go?

She'd been here but a day, and already his life was made richer. Caught in the web of sleep in his lair, he had felt her presence in the room above. For the fist time in over three centuries, he had slept without feeling alone.

And yet, he couldn't condemn her to a life with him, a life that was no life at all. He couldn't let her spend her days in this dreary place, cut off from the rest of humanity, just so he could have the pleasure of her company at night, feel her nearness while he slept.

"Tommy?"

He turned to face her, realizing she had been speaking to him for several moments. "I'm sorry, _cara_, did you say something?"

"I asked if you would share a glass of wine with me."

"Of course."

She watched him cross the room, his steps fluid, his cloak swirling out behind him. He moved like moonlight on water, she thought. It was as if his feet never touched the floor.

He refilled her glass and handed it to her. Smiling her thanks, she took a sip, then offered him the glass.

His dark gray eyes met hers as he turned the goblet in his hand, drinking from the place where her lips had been.

A quick heat uncurled within her as their eyes met. There was something sensual, erotic, in watching him, in knowing that his mouth was where hers had been only moments before.

She licked lips gone suddenly dry as the presence seemed to fill the entire room. The light of the fire danced in his hair, limning the ebony-colored strands with gold. The expression in his eyes grew intense,as if the heat of the flames burned within their depths. She studied the breadth of his shoulders, familiar with the latent strength that resided within him. He was dressed all in black, always in black.

He hadn't moved, and yet he seemeed to be all around her, filling her senses, until all she could see or hear was Tommy. All she could taste or touch or smell was Tommy.

Her heart pounded within her breast, a low steady beat, like that of a distant drum.

She opened her mouth to speak his name, but no sound emerged save that of a sigh.

"_Cara..._" He took a step toward her, one hand stretched in entreaty. Clad in her long white gown, with the wealth of her golden hair falling over her shoulders, and the light of the flames reflected in the depths of her eyes, she looked like a madonna, an angel.

He folded his hand into a fist and clenched it at his side. She was an angel, he thought, and he was a monster who had no right to touch her, to want her.

He took a step backward, and she had the feeling that he was withdrawing from her, that there was more than distance separating them. The thought frightened her.

"Tommy?"

"You should rest, Jude."

"I rested all day. Can't we go out?"

"Perhaps tomorrow night."

"Have I done something to displease you?"

"No!"

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. You've been through quite an ordeal. You need to conserve your strength."

"But I feel fine." She looked up at him, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Why do I feel fine?" She stared down at her hands as if she'd never seen them before. "Why am I healing so fast? Tommy, I'm frightened."

"Don't be." He took a step toward her, wanting, needing, to hold her, yet afraid to get too close, afraid he wouldn't be able to control the hunger her nearness aroused. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But the fire...Tommy, it burned me, I..." She took a deep breath. "I should have died. I was dying. I remember hearing Sister Georgia tell Sister Mary that my death would be a blessing. I remember Father Dominic standing over me, giving me last rites."

She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with confusion. "What happened to me, Tommy? Why didn't I die?"

"I can't explain it, _cara_. Only trust me. Believe me when I tell you that there's nothing to fear."

But she couldn't help beng frightened. All day, she had avoided asking herself these questions. In the light of day, she could pretend everything was alright, that nothing out of the ordinary had happened to her. But she couldn't pretend anymore. She'd been badly burned, but it didn't hurt. Already, the signs of injury were disappearing...in a few days they'd probably be gone.

A soft oath escaped Tommy's lips as he saw the anguish, the confusion, in Jude's eyes. Two long strides carried him to her bedside. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to his chair and sat down, cradling her in his arms as if she were a child.

He gazed deep into her eyes, bending her will to his. "Go to sleep, _cara_. There is nothing to fear. Sleep, _cara mia._ Sleep..."

He felt the tension drain out of her as her eyelids grew heavy. Moments later, she was asleep.

* * *

**_A/N: Hmmm, I wonder how long Tommy will keep her...forever maybe...or just for a bit. lol Hope you guys liked it. Thank you so much to those who reviewed. It makes my day when I read them. Please make sure to review...Haven't been getting as many, kinda gettin discouraged here, lol_**


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